Page 62 of Habibi: Always and Forever
LOVED
RHYS
T urning on the shower, I try to be as quiet as possible. Now that I study during the day, all my shifts at the gym are at night. It’s not ideal because I spend every hour there missing Lennox and Samuel, but this is one of those times where the end result will be worth the struggle.
After returning from Japan, life continued to be pleasant. For every hour of the day that I invest into my life and my sobriety, I’m rewarded in ways I never saw coming, ways I still don’t feel like I deserve, but with open, greedy arms, I’ll take it all anyway.
Tired and eager to get into bed, I quickly wash my body and hair before brushing my teeth.
Slipping into nothing but black boxer briefs, I step into our bedroom and take in the sight before me.
It’s my favorite view, on any given day; Samuel on his back, stretched across the bed, his blond hair growing out, curls spread out haphazardly across the pillow.
Lennox’s body is wrapped around Samuel’s like a vine, arms and legs circling his muscular body.
Even in his sleep, he clings to him, holding him in case he disappears.
Almost a year ago, seeing them wrapped up in one another, my insecurities would’ve told me to walk away. To leave them alone because I was too messy and undeserving. To leave them alone because they were perfect for one another and better off without me.
Truth is, I’m still messy and undeserving, and they are perfect for one another. But time has shown me they’re also perfect for me, nor are they any better without me than I am without them.
Noting the time, I pad softly across the room and climb into the bed, wanting to get a few hours with them before their day starts.
Curling myself around Lennox, I bury my head in his neck and bask in the feel and scent of his skin.
I lay my arm beside his, against Samuel’s chest, my hand resting on his beating heart, needing to touch both of them.
It isn’t a surprise when Lennox pushes his body against mine, or that I feel the mattress subtly shift as Samuel turns his body to face us.
I didn’t have to watch either of them to know their next move, because we are always in tune with one another, especially when the world is quiet and the night is dark.
For a moment in time, every day, nothing else exists but the three of us.
Everything is still and silent, but the love in the room is loud, and it’s only ours; the perfect postlude to the day and prelude to the next one.
I press my lips to the nape of Lennox’s neck before raising my head to meet Samuel’s gaze. Like every time I climb into bed after a long night at work, his sleepy eyes find mine, love and lust always ever present.
He’s a lighter sleeper than Lennox, and after months of working the night shift, then trying not to wake either of them when I got home, I now lean into what I can’t change instead of trying to prevent it.
Samuel raises his hand to my face, cupping my jaw.
“Missed you,” he murmurs, his voice husky and laced with sleep.
Letting my eyes fall shut, I turn into his touch and press my lips to his palm, wordlessly returning the sentiment.
“Tired?” he asks.
The side of my mouth tips up in a small smirk. “Exhausted.”
Every night we play this game of cat and mouse, where Samuel makes the first move, testing the waters and offering me an out. And every night he asks questions, and I give him all the wrong answers until not even the words or the distance between us can stop his lips from touching mine.
“You need to sleep,” he says.
“So do you,” I counter.
“I don’t need sleep.” In a practiced move, he angles his head around a sleeping Lennox and gently presses his lips to mine. “I just need you.”
* * *
LENNOX
Since losing my hearing, there have been many things I have missed. Many things I took for granted. And a way of life that, for a lot of the time, I have no idea how to navigate.
It would be easy to dwell on the things I’ve lost and what I may never experience again, but one thing that feels like a gift, every time, is this .
Sandwiched between Rhys and Samuel, like I am every night, I bask in the way their bodies envelop mine; intentionally and unintentionally.
While my deafness means I can’t actually hear Rhys enter the room or shower every night after work, my other five senses manage to make the loss seem inconsequential.
I smell him before I feel him, and I feel him before I can see him.
Used to their nightly song and dance, I purposefully keep my eyes closed longer than necessary.
Lying between them, I have the privilege of feeling their chests rumble as they talk to one another, and the change in their heartbeats.
Their naked skin surrounds me, their cocks thickening against my body as the lust simmers between them.
I have a front-row seat to the intimacy that is so often overlooked. The beginning, the build-up, the anticipation. I can feel their need, their want, their love, and it mirrors mine, every time.
Samuel was bulkier than Rhys and me, his arms and legs longer, which means it’s no surprise when he kisses Rhys without having to move me out of the way. Even without laying eyes on them, I know their kiss is soft, gentle, and unhurried.
Once.
Twice.
Their limbs are lax around me, and my body stirs in relaxed excitement. Some nights, I wait for them to come to me, their hands and mouths waking me up. On other nights, I keep my eyes closed, pretending I’m asleep, while they both fawn over me.
This was a new discovery for me, something I had never thought about, and something I thoroughly enjoyed. Besides being simultaneously used and worshipped, the obvious silence and the voluntary, temporary loss of sight mean my body feels everything tenfold.
My cock is heavy and aches with need between my legs as I dutifully wait for Samuel and Rhys to make their move.
It’s like clockwork.
Their kiss deepens, and their bodies tighten around me. I feel every move before it happens, the practiced way they maneuver around me, before Samuel’s mouth lands on mine, and Lennox is sucking and licking at the skin on the back of my neck.
I kiss Samuel back, our tongues tangled in a quick and familiar exchange. Open-mouthed kisses decorate my jawline and the length of my neck before he grips my chin and turns my head to the side.
Rhys’ lips find mine, my tongue giving him the permission he’s seeking. He kisses me till I’m on my back, the blankets now at the bottom of the bed, each of them on either side of me.
Unexpectedly, fingertips lightly skate over one of my eyelids, and I open my eyes in response.
Rhys gives me a soft smile and forms a V-shape with his fingers. He raises them to his face, his index finger landing underneath his eye before he points at me.
See you.
It’s not a complete sentence, but I understand him just fine—he wants my eyes open.
Everything about us is a two-way street, including sex, and if Rhys wants my eyes on him, that’s where my eyes are going to stay.
* * *
SAMUEL
It always feels symbolic and right that Lennox lies between us. The heartbeat of our relationship, the one who brought us all together. He’s our steady beat and our consistent pulse.
Lennox’s eyes open slowly, his gaze darting between us, and a lazy smirk stretches over his face. His hearing loss is such a big part of our story, and yet there are many times, like this one, where vocal communication is so overrated.
Words are unnecessary for us to understand the other’s needs and wants. There is beauty in listening to the silence, and I can hear the men I love loud and clear.
Over time, our sexual appetite for one another has become almost insatiable.
It’s been a journey of self-discovery that’s surprised us just as much as it has fulfilled our every desire.
While Lennox learned that, despite his aversion to attention outside the bedroom, inside it, he loves being our plaything.
Rhys learned that giving up control in bed helps ease the pressure of being in control in his everyday life. And I learned that I feel a deep satisfaction in being attuned to their every need.
Curling a hand around the back of Rhys’s neck, I guide him to me and slam my lips to his. The kiss is deep and long, with just enough tongue to make him hungry for more.
Reluctantly, I break our connection and glance down at Lennox, whose eyes track our every move. I can see the desire blazing in his eyes, but it has nothing on the restraint I know he’s using to lie still, waiting to be touched.
His body is softer now that he no longer plays football, but I can still see the way his muscles flex as he waits to be touched. His cock lies against his stomach, long and hard, his balls tight and high in anticipation. The sight of his eagerness always makes my heart beat wildly in my chest.
“Rhys,” I say, my voice low. “Come. Straddle him. Drive him crazy for me.”
I sign the word come and use half-gesture, half-sign for the word over, knowing Lennox is very much used to the mishmash of communication we all use during sex.
Rhys and I never speak around Lennox without signing, except in moments like this, with Lennox’s consent, where it heightens the element of surprise.
In two swift moves, Rhys presses his mouth to Lennox’s and climbs over his body. His fingers find Lennox’s nipples, rolling them beneath his thumbs.
Seated beside them, I have the perfect view of them both.
My gaze starts at their mouths, the synchronicity of their kiss, the familiarity in every swipe of their tongues.
I watch the way it starts soft and slow, and shifts to deep and desperate.
The way it changes the rise and fall of Lennox’s chest. Goosebumps erupt over Lennox’s skin at Rhys’ touch, while Rhys rocks his hips, rubbing his thick cock against Lennox’s for friction.